Unfit Guardians
by Solus Rom Veritus
Summary: Harry becomes a ward of the school and lives with each of the professors for a short period of time. Grossness...so far: fat sex, slight beastiality themes, obsessive compulsiveness, fauna monsters, and little people biggotry
1. The Dursleys

"He sleeps in the cupboard?" The high pitched and rather snotty voice of the Family Welfare Officer from the Ministry of Magic asked my scared and shaking aunt. I was to be the first evaluated by the new department. With the death of Voldermort I think they were hoping on declaring my muggles wonderful role models, followed by perhaps removing Malfoy from his pure blood mother and her 'bad influence'. Telling the community that Voldemorts ideals were not upheld in the government after so many followers turned out to be high ranking officers at the ministry.  
  
"No!" My aunt cried out in uncertain indignation. Her eyes were huge with fear and a vein in her neck was pulsing every few seconds. Long and spindly fingers wrapped around a handkerchief trying to squeeze the life from it. The little sneak-a-scope attacked to the officers clip board shone red and my aunt tried desperately to think of an answer that would not see her family locked away. A fine layer of sweat building on her brow as she slowly turned an unhealthy yellow. "Well. . . yes, but he's. . . you see the thing you have to understand is that, well. . ." But before she could think of an appropriate way of describing my many inadequacies the large form of Uncle Vernon pushed itself sideways through the door from the kitchen. Holding his considerable girth up with both hands and grunting through the already enlarged door frame in the most ridicules of manners despite the pompous look in his eye. He truly believed that blubber roll was the epitome of everything manly and good. "He'd a ruddy FREAK! That's what that boy is! And I won't have his freakishness sullying my home! Sullying my family!" His head shook with the effort of speaking, slight spittle flying every which way in a manner reminiscent of his sisters beloved bull dogs. Surely the Dursley family had bread with the mutts at some point to bare such a striking resemblance? His breathing was deep and audible, face reddening slowly as if to threaten all present with a most spectacular heart attack at any moment. Beady eyes narrowed in suspicion as his piggy little brain finally registered that this woman was most likely a 'freak' too.  
  
The officer raised an eyebrow and made a note on her clipboard while enunciating in a clear voice "Imprisonment in a small space. Verbal abuse. Demeaning behaviour, and," Her eyes raising to look at Uncle Vernons middle with a disgusted snarl she spat out the last, "Possibly plan on eating him." Vernon bristled visibly as the officer reattached her pencil to the clipboard and made her way into the lounge, completely ignoring now greenish coloured woman and her almost purple husband. No doubt she thought they suffered from some kind of mood ring magic, but she did not mention it and if she thought I had cursed them illegally she made no comment of it. No doubt believing they disserved just as much. She reminded me of a scientist studying another species. Her out stretched neck craning to see every nook and cranny as if she might find a nesting area behind a couch. A kind of animal collection of shiny things behind the refrigerator. Maybe even proof that they wallowed underneath the kitchen table. She seemed unwilling to touch anything; clearly she felt it would be wrong to upset the habitat.  
  
A few more notes latter and she was climbing the steps. When she reached the middle of the stair case and heard an offending creak, she froze in apparent shock. Slowly stepping back onto it once or twice to be sure it was actually faulty she then turned her head to glare menacingly at my relatives. As if this step were the worse of their short comings. She pulled her pencil from it's frame with a small snapping noise and spoke out loud at she wrote in chicken scratch handwriting "Inadequate household maintenance" and glared once again at the shocked couple, daring them to contest her assessment. Then made her way to the second floor. To be honest I thought it was a stretch, but perhaps she had already made her decision and wanted to be sure it was indisputable by collecting an abundance of evidence. Well worded offences for even the slightest of things.  
  
The next day I was given over to the school, or more appropriately, I was given over to Dumbledores guardianship. The reason for it made me bristle with anger. He was my actually legal guardian. After Sirius my parents wanted me placed with him, and in his manipulative and stupid old man way he decided to place me in little whining instead. But he insisted he was a very busy man. Much to many responsibilities to undertake my care as well. He twinkled at me like a Christmas tree on fire and made quite the show of allowing me to pick any teacher I wanted to live with. Their quarters all in the school and themselves all apparently living here for lack of anywhere better to go. The life of a boarding school teacher had never seemed more lonely and depressing. I chose Hagrid straight away. And this is were my adventure began. Who knew what I was to expect. . . certainly I would never see any of my teachers in the same light again. 


	2. Hagrid

Standing in the middle of the run down hut I felt welcome and at ease. There was only one bed with a certain separating it from the rest of the one roomed house, but the couch of a half giant is more then big enough to bed a 17 year old boy. The hut smelt like firewood with a slightly side of dog. Everything that made Hagrid so welcoming could be felt in the very air. I was comfortable to say the least. We had a dinner of mead and lamb brought from the castle on his makeshift table in the corner and conversed happily before going to bed. Everything was fine. Everything was better then fine actually, everything was bloody fantastic.  
  
That was until at one in the morning when I heard the loud nock on the door and the excited shifting of Hagrid from his bed. Deciding it was noting of import, I tried to return to my dream state. The grounds keepers footsteps reverberated through the floor and up to my couch, before he opened the door and whispered out the dreaded sentence.  
  
"Hello Maxima, It's wonderful you came! We gotta be quiet though, 'arrys asleep on the couch." My blood ran could with fear as I realised the only possible reason two adults their age would meet up that late at night. The only thing they could be planning on doing that would require then to be quiet. Their bed was directly across from the lounge. I saw their meaty hands clasped as they approached the it and sat next to each other. I didn't dare move. Didn't dare make a sound. A voice in my head screamed at me to close my eye's but they were opened wide in fear.  
  
They wouldn't! They couldn't!  
  
One beefy and hair covered hand reached under a curtain sized skirt to reveal to my shocked and horrified 17 year old eyes exactly what cellulite looks like. They reached in to each other and kissed in loud wet smacking of lips as I tried to recoil into the cushions beneath me. Bile was swirling in my stomach, this was not good.  
  
Pulling away from Hagrid and removing his hand I was relieved to see the French teacher lean back. . . that was until two beefy arms, easily twice the size of each of my thighs, crossed over one another and removed the single layer of clothing covering her top half. Breasts the size of my head if not more, brought none of the feelings I was once sure such monstrously sized melons would. They were pointing down to the ground and out form each other slightly. Held up by the roll of fat around her middle and slightly pushed together by the now jiggling arms as Hagrids whole face lit up and he delved his breaded face between them. All my efforts where focused on not vomiting. My heart beat rising in dread as she started to make cooing noises and he started to grunt in the most animalistic fashion. My eye's refused to shut, as if afraid they would realise I was no longer watching and progress to more depraved activities.  
  
They made short work of the rest of their cloths and within ten minutes of the first horrid revelation I'd seen more human flesh then I ever hoped to encounter for the rest of my life. Round legs reached skyward as the hair covered form of my friend pounded between them, each loud squeak of their bed gosling the entire house and bouncing me nearly a foot into the air. Thankfully a blanket covered the worst of it, but I was finding it increasingly difficult to remain still as I slowly bounced closer to the edge of the lounge. My arms stretched out to grab some cloth but it was too late, I fell to the floor with a large thunk and Maxima screamed out in terror. Clutching the blanket tight to her bosom and I backed away towards the door with both arms outstretched to block the blows from her rather good aim. She Screamed out "pervert" and many worse insults with every object that was flung towards me. A teapot went shooting past my head as I ducked in fear and tried to tell the barely covered woman that I didn't want to see her naked without just screaming out the obvious fact that no one would. "I fell of the lounge! I swear! I didn't see a thing!"  
  
Hagrid was trying to calm her to no effect and I finally hit the door handle with my back, "I'll just go stay with McGonagall actually. I'll see you in a few days Hagrid!" I checked that my shrunken trunk was still in pocket and thanked the god that I had forgotten to take it out, and with that I fled back to the castle. All innocence gone, my childhood ripped from me in one disgusting show of whale mating. I was certain old McGonagall had no such visitors. I wanted her clean and tightly strung grandmotherly-ness. I wanted to be safely away from the horny half giants. 


	3. McGonagall

When I knocked on her door, McGonagall smiled tightly while thinning her lips. She was wearing the most ridicules hat I had every seen, a forest green snug fitting beanie with a slight cap in front and little ribbons holding it tight to her head. The bow at the bottom cutting slightly into her goose like neck folds. I would have cringed, but next to the scene I had just left it was almost arousing. She tutted and looked down at me with clear disapproval. "This, Potter, is exactly what I knew would happen. Why you couldn't have just chosen me to start with I'll never know."  
  
She stepped back to offer entrance and I was immediately warmed by the very Gryffindor atmosphere. Her fire was roaring in the corner and her walls where a patterned Red and Gold of tapestries. When I removed my shoes the carpet was thick and warm and felt like cotton. She transfigured the couch by the fire into a single bed and wandered over to a bench to make me tea.  
  
Sighing in relief I sat down on the bed and placed my outer robe (with still shrunken trunk) onto the couch opposite for the morning. Sipping tea across from her while staring into the fire we conversed for a few hours. She really was a comfort. I explained in edited detail what had happened at Hagrids hut and she turned a vivid shade of red and quickly changed the topic. We talked about school and her teaching career and other safe topics that where equally impersonal before I must have fallen asleep. The last thought before nodding off was that there didn't seem to be any doors, and I had no idea where her rooms would be. The foreign feeling of being tucked in sending me into a dream state.  
  
My dreams where filled with moving bodies, unrecognisable and faceless, but covered with shimmering soft skin and a slight sheen of sweat. As is the nature of a 17 year old boy, the dream was able to forget the horrors witnessed a few hours prior and concentrate in on much more delicious things. A swirl of movement and a tingling sensation was all I could define, but I knew what was going on none the less. A back twisting slightly and the feel of hands on my shoulders. A musky sent filling my nostrils and my heart beat raising as the humidity seemed to rise considerably within minutes. Just before I was about to see this mysterious persons face the dream world swirled away so a red and gold room in the light of dawn replaced it. The soft tingling feeling still present below.  
  
Actually, after a good 5 minutes of being half awake on my couch, eyes closed and lingering on the verge of nod, I realised the tingling sensation was more like a tongue. And it was still there. Less a dream like tickling then a very real and noticeable scrape.  
  
My eyes flew open and I stared at the slight mould stirring under my blanket in mounting fear. What was it!?! I whimpered slightly in fear and the length being caressed by a perforated tongue deflated. A slight meow sounded disappointedly thought the thick layers of cloth. My heart beat rose and horrors began to flash through my mind. This had to be a dream, simply had to be! The disgusting and descriptive rumours of Filch and Mrs Norris flashing in my head as I realised I would never be able to hear them with out blushing like a 12 year old girl again. I stretched a shanking hand out to lift the layers and spotted, to my great horror, a very familiar cat nuzzling my most privates, in a contented way, through my pants. The front of my trousers where wet with cat saliva and. . .other things. Two small, round and golden eyes looked up at me and started to purr. The vibrations of that action moving up my spine due to the strategically placed cat throat. I screamed out in horror and shot from my bed. Dislodging the feline in the process and sending her sprawling to the ground with a panicked wait. I clucked my outer cloak towards myself to shield and protect me from the now hissing cat.  
  
Was that Professor McGonagall? Was that Professor McGonagall lovingly licking my nether regions in her cat form all night? Could it be? Surely I was still asleep!  
  
As I watched in mounting fear the cat licked herself clean in seeming nonchalance and then looked up at me with what I can only describe as a cats natural scorn before transforming into my head of house. "Really, Potter. You are quite fond of over reacting. It is only natural for a cat to find the warmest place on it's humans body to sleep. When your emitting that kind of radiation of cause the animal will settle there." Her voice was steady and unashamed and she looked condescendingly down at me as she untied her little cap, hair under neither it still in a tight bun.  
  
"But that was you! Not some cat!" I couldn't believe my ears at her laughter. I tight little chuckle as if a first year had just asked why they could not just transfigure paper into money. That teacherly giggle of 'how stupid could you get?' Apparently she was not responsible for her actions as a cat. It was perfectly normal for her psyche to change when in a differently composed brain. Apparently I was over reacting again. I was being a silly teen age boy. Where did I think she slept if not on the couch? Didn't I realise how much more comfortable it was to sleep in cat form?  
  
Well. . .apparently I was leaving. I threw my cloak on and fled form the room. Hopefully I would be able to forget that my Transfiguration teacher seemed to think it was fine to nuzzle my family jewels while I slept. 


	4. Vector

Hurrying down the corridor I was at a loss as to whom to try next. I really didn't have a favourite after those two. But my question was solved when turning a corner without looking where I was going I ran directly into Professor Vector. He let out a little squeak as his pile of papers went spraying over the floor. Thinking fast I dropped onto my knees to help him and exclaimed in an overly excited voice, "Professor! Your just the man I wanted to see!" Straightening his glasses he looked slightly puzzled as he reorganised each and every sheet of parchment into the perfect order. I was stunned that he could look at me and seem to be concentrating on my words while his hands worked seemingly by their own accord to file the papers into their correct place. Within seconds every piece was placed as he wanted them, and not a single one was even slightly out of symmetry with the rest. They looked like a pile of brand new parchments from a shop. If I had tried to do that I would have ended up with some perpendicular to the rest at the most and an inch difference in each pieces edge in the least. But neatness was something I could handle.  
  
"Really? Me?" I was about to answer when his eyes turned upwards and he started to mumble nonsensical words to himself. The fingers on his right hand moving as if to punch numbers into an invisible calculator, outstretched in front him and bending in weird angles at the joints. The white of his eyes shining in the torch light as he tried desperately to look directly into his brain. His thick glasses magnified the effect and I could see the small veins on his eyeballs as they shifted slightly back and forth as if reading. His lips moved in a silent and steady mumbles and paused slightly when his hands movements stopped, only to start again with a slight look of relief. He looked like the rain man. I was tempted to run.  
  
Finally his eyes came back down and a smile asserted itself on his face. "Dear me, and to think there was only a 1 in 1483 chance that you would choose me to stay with when one considers you are not in my class and a student is three times as likely to go to a teacher they are taught by and twice as likely to go to a member of the opposite sex, unless you happen to be gay which there is a 1 in 10 chance to be taken into consideration. I must tell you I'm quite surprised. Could I ask what the factor that swayed in my favour was?"  
  
Dumbfounded as I was my excuse sounded plebeian next to his mathematical brain. "Hermoine." He raised and eyebrow and considered this answer before shaking his head and looking back at me for a better response. He reminded me of a robot who, upon obtaining an unsuitable answer, simply rebooted and asked again. Completely deleting the memory of my poor attempt at logic from his head.  
  
"Hermoine said you were really nice. She always talks about you. To hear her say it you're the best teacher in the world, and I figured it would be nice to finally meet you." His face reddened in embracement as he stood back up and stuttered out excuses, as if being liked were a crime. "Yes, well, she is a good student. A well ordered mind, but that's not to say I'm too nice to her. She really shouldn't talk like that. People will think. . .Not that there's anything to thing. No, no, she's a student! That's all, she's a good student." His voice had risen in the middle to an almost alarmed pitch before noticing my growing suspicion and falling back to a pathetic mumble. This skinny and inexplicably clean man was either conducting in inappropriate behaviour with Hermoine, or he desperately wanted to and felt horrible guilt over that fact. A slight sheen was growing on his forehead under my scrutiny and a single ball of sweat rolled down his bald head and past his eat as I watched. He was shaking slightly like a leaf in the wind. He pulled his papers tight to his chest like a girl with a rag doll and tried to assert some authority. "Come along then, Potter." And with that he turned on his heal and led me to his quarters. My bag still in my pocket unpacked. God only knew what horrors wait in lay in this mans home.  
  
The first thing I noticed where the triangles. Hundreds of them. The room was a triangle, the doors, the mat and the oddly shaped furniture all triangles. And not just any triangle. These where right angles. A sign above his mantel had some indecipherable latin which he read out as a hilarious joke. The mathematicians mind had clearly snapped. He lead me to my room and told me to unpack. I was unsure. As of yet I had refrained form removing any items from my trunk unless I desperately needed them. All the better for fast escapes. But he waited for me to begin and I could not think of a way of explaining to him that should he turn out to be a complete nut job I wanted everything packed and ready to go.  
  
The first item I removed was a book from Hermoine that sat on top of my trunk. I placed it on the side table and reached for another item as the man moved in my peripheral. He lifted the book and positioned it at the end of the shelf, at a perfect right angle to the edge of the shelf. I looked up and met his eyes and he smiled serenely and continued to stand watching me. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. He'd just made a triangle out of my book and the wall. Something was wrong.  
  
I lifted my stack of clothes still on their hangers and placed them on the pole in the wardrobe. Vector made no move so I searched in my trunk for my dragon figurine. He disserved a good walk around after all. But when I turned back the professor was standing in front of the wardrobe rehanging each item with speedy care. Some items he folded double, some he sat lower on the hangers. With each newly hung piece he would shift their places at what seemed like a growing pattern. Indignation at him having touched my things at all was frozen in shock as I realised he was not only arranging them in a blended rainbow, so the yellows sat by the greens and the greens by the blue, but that from let to right the clothing appeared to get shorter because of his folding. When he finally stepped back there was a triangle of clothing. And not just any triangle, a right angle triangle. My mouth was agape with fear. Fascination. Perhaps even slight respect. This was, after all, a very organised man.  
  
His eyes spotted the stretching dragon in my palm and he reached out to take it. My fingers immediately closed protectively over it. I'd no idea how he would turn a dragon into a triangle, but I didn't particularly want too either. He made a frustrated noise and tried to pry my fingers open. I was shocked into stillness, that was, until he started to make some progress and I moved my other hand up to enclose my beloved pet as well.  
  
"Come on now, Potter. We'll just give him a trim. In the name of order let him go!"  
  
I cried out in the negative and a tug of war began. He sputtered and tried with all his might to remove the creature from my hands. His glasses slightly shifting down his nose as I tugged my own hands closer to chest. He was mad! With a final tug I managed to rip my hands free and stuff the dragon in my pocket, "I'm really sorry Professor, this was a mistake!" I grabbed my clothes and stuffed them back in my trunk to which he gave a horrified cry. Grabbing my book and re-shrinking the chest I ran for the door past hundreds of terrifying triangles. His crying could be heard echoing down the halls.  
  
I clearly needed to talk to Hermoine about the sanity of continuing his class. (And continuing anything else she may or may not be doing with the man. 


	5. Sprout

Running from the rooms to the Great Hall, I decided that it was time to actually think about whom to try next. Clearly my instincts where terribly wrong. I pulled out a piece of parchment and quill and set to work making a list of all things absolutely necessary in a guardian.  
  
1. Someone with more then one room. Hagrid and McGonagall had  
shown the horrors of sharing, and quite frankly I'd had enough  
molesting and voyeurism to last a life time.  
  
2. Some one messy. Someone who did not like triangles, or  
circles or squares for that matter. Someone who could live  
happily in the randomness of nature. . .  
  
Then it hit me. Like a bolt of lightning to the head an idea took root and sprung forth. The perfect teacher to live with! Professor Sprout! The dumpy little witch with her tattered robes and dirt blackened nails. Hair flying every which way in an almost straw like manner as if she were a scarecrow left in the field after her farmer had decided to abandon his crop. She had clearly sprung forth with life to tend to those beloved shrubs herself. The mild mannered witch, favourite of Neville Longbottom (who if nothing else only liked the most demure of teachers) was almost definitely asexual and without the magical talent for animal transfiguration and the consequential bestiality issues. Not only that, but she lived in large and well known accommodation that was filled with plants and dirt and all things not symmetrical, parallel or even slightly neat. She was prefect!  
  
I picked up my quill and ink bottle and returned them to a small bag I had decided to take out of my trunk so that I might carry a few important things without unpacking. . . unpacking was bad. . . and then made my way to the green houses. Trudging through mud and grass and a batch of squirming mandrakes I found Professor Sprout tenting to her plants out the front, singing little songs to them and patting their leaves. Her soft voice was that of a devoted nanny, she was the epitome of the maternal figure.  
  
"Hello, Professor Sprout! I was wondering. . . I mean if you don't mind, the Headmaster said I could choose a teacher to live with. . ." my face flushed red with embarrassment, asking to stay with someone was actually quite hard when given the time to think about where you stay. The old witch straightened up with a loud crack from her back and smiled a chubby faced smile as she dusted her hands off. "So I was wondering if I could stay with you?" I finished almost lamely. If my luck where to persist, she would say no. Or perhaps ask who exactly I was.  
  
The old witch seemed to preen at the suggestion and started to thank me profusely for the company. Her cheeks tinting a shy red and her smile as welcoming as Molly Weasleys as she removed her dirt covered apron and gloves to show me my new rooms.  
  
Ushering me inside the house and offering lemonade and cookies I was happy with my choice. The insides looked almost like an underground rabbit borrow, walls of jagged stone covered in moss and weaving vines and small seats before a heath made from hollowed logs. She showed me to my room and suggested that should I get bored my assistance would be most appreciated in the garden later on. When she left me to pack, still slightly paranoid, I watched suspiciously through a crack in the door until her figure had trotted back outside before turning to inspect the room. A plush bed sat near the side of the small but comfortable quarters, thick with layers of patched blankets and branding the Hufflepuff crest in the centre. On the side was an old cottage like armoire with an ornate mirror on the front and leaves carved into the woodwork. The door creaked when I deposited my bag inside, but I found that little imperfection perfect right then.  
  
After finishing the lemonade and cookie I made my way outside to help in the garden and happily wiled away the hours watering and re-potting and most definitely not clipping anything into a triangle hedge. Sprout was rather fond of the random shape of her belongings and wouldn't trim them at all unless the species demanded it.  
  
Later that night, sitting next to the hearth, I felt a tickling on my neck and startled around to find a vine curling towards me in the most menacing way a vine ever had before. I got the feeling that even though it was a lone length, it was somehow flipping me the bird. The long and finger like stem was bald of leaves but seemed to stem from an extensive growth covering the walls of almost every room. Tinny little hairs along it's tips stood up in warning. The plant was most definitely threatening me.  
  
"Don't mind him, dear. Rupert gets a little jealous of company is all. I'm sure he'll get used to you soon enough." she rushed reassured me, but the nervous glint in her eye gave her away. 'Rupert' the vine made another dash for my neck was swatted away by the professors hand. A slight whining noise could be heard, form god only knows where, as it retreated to its place on the wall. Only slightly creped out, I continued to talk.  
  
That was until a tightening around my ankle made me painfully aware that Rupert had returned. "Ahhh!" I yelled out in alarm as I tried furtively to tug my foot from the chair, under which the vine had made his way. I was the man on death row with one ankle band in place when a fire started and everyone abandoned me. If only that one vine would let go I could flee to safety! Lifting the leg of my trousers the thick vine could be seen winding ever tighter, like a python, as my foot slowly turned red and the soft skin of my ankle creased under pressure. The smoother surface of the greenery cutting slightly as I moaned in mounting pain.  
  
"RUPERT!" Sprout yelled out at the offending plant, "What do you think your doing? Let young Harry go at once!" and with that she fell to her knees and started to wrestle the tight vine from my ankle. I sat in fear as her large and patch covered bottom bobbed in the air before me, small grunting noises sounding below. I felt most uncomfortable. Her messy grey hair blocked my view of the struggle for my foots freedom but from the feel of it she was slowly making headway, and circulation was slowly returning. When she finally worked it free I had merely enough time to scream in surprise before a larger vine made its' way from behind her to tug her robes backwards and away from my risqué. "Rupert! Stop it at once! He's just a student! Your being ridiculous!" She stumbled backwards as the vine held tight to it's beloved human. Rupert, apparently, disagreed with her assessment of my threat. Many more smaller vines snakes out to hold the witch in place without so much as scratching her as the previously attacking one made haste to my neck and lifted me slightly off the ground. A retched scream left my lounges as I realised that I just might die from this territorial plant. Madam Sprout wiggling across from me, her dumpy little hands pulling at the non responsive vines holding her in place as she tried fruitlessly to reason with the murderous thing. "Rupert, I swear, he's just a student! You can't kill him! They'll fire me! We'll see how lonely you get once your all alone! Not many teachers would put up with this!"  
  
Water started to sprout from my eyes and the beat of my heart was rushing through my ears. The rhythmic thumping seemed to make my face heavier with each rush against the insides of my ears and eyes, my toes just barely scraping the ground when Rupert suddenly dragged my gagging form from the room and threw me quite violently out the front door. I stumbled on the ground gasping for air as the vine retreated with a last flick, and I was once again left with the feeling that it had made some fauna type of rude gesture. A smash from a side window seconds later and my bag was tossed from the opening before a coverage of vines engulfed every opening and closed of the still tutting Professor inside. Clearly I was not welcome.  
  
Slightly thankful that I had not fallen asleep with her 'darling' plants, I made my way back to the castle to sleep in a corridor instead. In the world of Hogwarts being homeless was better then being an orphan. 


	6. Flitwick

Oh.yes. Um, I don't own Harry Potter. I know no one thinks I do, and I know that everyone (myself included) hates authors notes and disclaimers, but they might take this down if I don't.sorry.  
  
Making my way back inside the castle, I decided to sleep in an alcove rather then searching out another teacher to stay with. Perhaps Dumbledore would agree to take me once morning came? Either way I truly needed some sleep. My eyes fell shut and I drifted away.  
  
Hours later I awoke to the feeling of a slight poking and the sound of faintly chirping birds. The sun was creeping over the horizon in a brilliant display of orange, pink and light blue. Licking away the dryness from my lips and rubbing the sleep form my eyes I felt the slight tapping again, only this time it was accompanied with a small chuckle and a high pitched "Mr. Potter?"  
  
Looking down I saw a smiling Professor Flitwick poking me lightly with his walking stick. He stood a short 3 and half feet tall, a 2 foot bread hiding most of his reddened face form view. Tubby little lingers holding his walking stick like miniature sausages filled to the brink. The taller I got the more I found myself having to resist the urge to pat him on the head like a great big (ugly) kitten. I didn't think he'd really appreciate that.  
  
"Mr. Potter? Did something go wrong? Who where you staying with?" He squeaked in his little helium filled voice while replacing his tiny little walking stick to his tiny little side. Deep blue eyes twinkling in a very Dumbledore manner. I sometimes wondered if the Headmaster didn't create the Charms Professor after watching Austin Powers. It's the kind of weird muggle thing that Dumbledore would like. But that twinkling was still aimed at me, and I really had to answer him, "I was staying with Professor Sprout, but her plants didn't like me." He seemed to take that as an acceptable excuse, and I found myself wondering if it was a regular occurrence in for Rupert to toss an unsuspecting human out on their rear.  
  
"I don't suppose," he began, "you'd rather stay with me then in the corridor? I don't have any plants, if that helps?" His hidden mouth seemed to twitch upward under a bushy upper lip, and his twinkling increased. Cheeks a Christmas elf red and nobly nose like a mini marshmallow. He not only possessed the kindly grandfather aspects of the headmaster. . . he was just so little and cute! How could I say no to that itty-bitty face? It would no doubt crush him just as much as a misplaced foot. "I'd love to Professor." I replied and began to follow him to his rooms.  
  
The problems began early this time. The door he took me to was a quaint 3 ¾ foot tall. Just enough for the professor and his hat to pass under. It made me slightly nervous, and I must have shifted uncomfortably because he chuckled up at me and assured me that the rooms where not as little as the door. "All you big people! So afraid of a door!" He chuckled out in mirth. Lightly holding his belly with one child like hand as he amused himself with my reaction. When he finished laughing his eyes darkened slightly and a small frown graced his brow as he looked away into space. "No one ever comes in here you know, not once in all my years!" He was looking rather put out now, and I was slightly afraid I had had offended him, but before I could apologise he continued I a much higher and louder voice, "And I know it's because of the door! God forbid anyone be uncomfortable in smaller quarters!" His head was moving with the effort by now, and his arms started to point up at the ceiling (which was high for me and no doubt monstrous for him) "Never mind that I walk around in this ceiling-less maze all day! Breezes like I'm outdoors and no consideration for the fact that my kind like tight spaces!" By this point in his tantrum his voice was filled with resentment and his whole face that Christmas red, rather then just spots on his cheeks and nose. He turned his eyes on me again and pointed his finger at me menacingly. Stubby little digit covered in hair and reminding me of a giant baby. It didn't have the proportions of a childs slender hand, it was the tubby mound of a babys angry fist. "Do you know I don't even have a desk that I fit at? No doubt you've noticed they have me standing on books! A PILE OF BOOKS! I bet if McGonagall shrunk herself she'd get a specially designed desk! But not me!" With that he seemed to calm and realise what he was saying. He took a few calming breaths and looked back at me apologetically, "But that's not your fault, Potter. I assure you it's fine inside." He opened the little door and went in, I found myself too afraid to not follow.  
  
As I bent down I realised I did not want to crawl in on my knees, it was a rather comical thing to do. . . what if he took offence? So I squatted and frog walked in (my knees up at my shoulders as I pretending my thighs did not exist and walked from the knees down, it's a very hard thing to do) very slowly so that I would not tip over as I made my way in. Once past the door I tried to stand, only to go crashing into the ceiling. It was indeed taller then the door. He hadn't lied. At 5 and a half feet high, the ceiling was quite a portion taller then the door, and about half a foot too short for my head.  
  
The small room was circular and cosy, in a very 'little' way. The tables and chairs where all at Professor Flitwicks size, and all doors leading out of it where just as small as the front one. Flitwicks little legs tottered over to a table to deposit his things before he waved me over to a side door (presumably my room) and walked inside, turning back to watch my progress.  
  
My knees slightly bent and my head tilted to the left, I shuffled through the room with a new appreciation for Hagrids life. I did not adequately fit between the couch and the wall, by small hips pushing the chair forward with a scraping noise on the wooden floor boards. When I tried to skirt around the table I knocked a bottle of ink over. I made a mad dash of hands to grab it and replace it and, in doing so, forgot my tilted head position and once again crashed into the ceiling. Only this time, being in the centre of the room, I crashed straight into a mini chandelier and would have hung myself if there had been the room to fall. As it was, I had to detangle my now red blushing cheeks from the crystal strings and hope to god I hadn't broken any of them. No doubt I appeared a tomato trying to hide amongst a tangle of spiders web. The pumpkin like light fitting perfectly engulfing my skull, even as it tilted noticeably to the left. My journey across the room continued. When I reached the door the frowning and glaring eyes of my Professor greeted me. "Not to small for you is it, Potter?"  
  
"No, no! I'm just a clutz! I should have mentioned it, I'm always doing that! Honest!" I tried desperately to sound light hearted and ashamed at the same time. This man was good with charms, the brother of which was curses, who knew what he could do to me should I complain. Perhaps shrink me down to the right size for the room. The idea of anyone shrinking my manhood (weather the rest of me shrunk or not) was a blood chilling prospect and it would be for any teenage boy, I was sure.  
  
His little eyes narrowed suspiciously before he turned tail and retreated back out of the room. So relieved I was that the scrutinising eyes where no longer on me, that I relaxed to much and slammed my head into the ceiling yet again. Hoping to god he hadn't heard me and rubbing my new growing lump (as if I needed anything tenter to grow even closer to the ceiling!) I sat on the bed and decided to lay down. Trekking across such small abodes was tiring work after all.  
  
The bed gave an alarmed squeak and I was too terrified to move. Clearly not made for someone of my size, my feet hung a good two feet of the edge and rested on a shelf in the wardrobe opposite. I feared I would not get out of here without breaking every piece of furniture in sight. But should I say something I could see the little man screaming blue murder form my anti- little people ways. I would have to endure.  
  
Shifting my feet out slowly I managed to only topple one of the little shelves on it's side and, once sitting up on the now screaming-in-agony- because-of-my-weight-bed, I managed to right the shelf with little difficulty. My bag did not fit in the wardrobe, and I did not fit in the bed. Just perfect. A knock sounded at my door before it opened and Flitwick cam in to inspect the crashing noises. His little head slipped past the door jam to inspect any damage before he invited me out to eat breakfast with him.  
  
In the main room again I sat very carefully onto the straining chair and made a very inelegant attempt at eating with shrunken utensils. The knife was to small to get a good enough grip on in order to cut the sausage, and when I pulled it further into my hand the sharp blade sliced into my flesh.  
  
"So, Potter, do you like my quarters?" The little Professor began, eyes down on his meal even as his lips thinned awaiting my response. Panic started to swim in my veins.  
  
"Oh, yes sir!" I answered with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, "They're very. . .quaint." I smiled encouragingly at his still suspicious face. My head nodding enthusiastically in a somewhat deranged way. This was not going well at all. He began to talk again, "So you don't think they're too small?"  
  
"No sir! There cosy." My response was met with a head on stare as the little man put down his utensils to study my closely. "You don't think that everything should be enlarged into a 'normal' size then?"  
  
My heart was beating faster. Was he trying to fight with me? Did he want me to tell him his silly little rooms where ridiculous? That he should just charm himself bigger and be done with it? Because if that was what he wanted. . . well I sure as hell wasn't going to say it! "No sir! Everything seems perfectly normal to me! I grew up in a much smaller place, this is really quite roomy compared to my cupboard!" His little eyes narrowed further. It appeared I had said something wrong. "Your cupboard, Potter. Of course my whole house would be bigger then your cupboard! I suppose you thought I lived in a rabbit hole?"  
  
Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!  
  
"Oh no! The Cupboard was my room, Professor! I just meant. . . that is to say. . . I'm used to being locked in much smaller places. This is really quite roomy for me!"  
  
He stood up so abruptly that his little chair knocked over, "For YOU! Because YOU where 'locked in a cupboard' my rooms don't seem too small? But to a 'normal' person they would! Is that what your saying, Potter? I didn't know you where a bigot!"  
  
I stood up too, my head hitting the ceiling with a loud thud which I tried to ignore as I raised my arms in defeat and what I hoped was a non threatening manner, "No, No! I'm not! I just keep saying the wrong thing! I think I hit my head hard when that vine threw me out! I don't even know what I'm saying!"  
  
We stood staring at each other for a few moments before he seemed to calm down and pulled his chair back up to sit on it. He motioned for me to follow. . . only I forgot to be delicate and the chair crashed under my weight, sending me into a sprawling heap on the floor with what felt like a hundred splinters firmly embedded in my arse.  
  
"I KNEW IT! THAT'S IT! TAKE YOUR BAG AND GET OUT!"  
  
As I stumbled to my feet he tottered over to my room to throw my bag at me, and then started to kick me legs with hard little metal tipped boots as I scampered off the ground and send furniture flying in my rush to get out. I crawled out the door and bolted down the hall like a bat out of hell.  
  
This completely confirmed my theory. The teachers in this school spent too much time here alone. They needed somewhere to go for their brake. They where all far too rooted in their little habits and lives.  
  
The list of people to go to was dwindling. Snape was as the bottom of that list, and second last was firmly held my Trelawney. That left Sinistra and Binns. The living sounded better then the dead. So I made my way up a flight of stares, trying desperately to figure out what could be wrong with the Slytherin woman. 


	7. Sinistra

When I knocked on her door there was the sound of muffled swearing and objects being moved about before the terrifying (yet quite sexy) form of Professor Sinistra showed herself. I gave a few minutes to wonder what it was that made Slytherins so good looking and yet creepy as all hell at the same time before beginning the doomed words I had come to fear, "Professor? Can I live with you?"  
  
She seemed surprised by this and thought about it before opening the door and letting me in. Her dark brown eyes looking me up and down like a cat surveying a mouse before she grinned evilly and finally stepped back. The room was filled with live bats. I nearly screamed like a little girl, but held myself in check just barely. They where hanging upside down form every surface of her dark purple rooms. Small black rodent like creatures with stretched-skin wings wrapped firmly around their little bodies. One or two of them where stretching their wings, small veins visible through the transparent lengths.  
  
I was expecting this from Snape, not the Astronomy teacher.  
  
Everything in the rooms was a scary black. Skulls where placed around the room at odd places slowly decaying in their yellowed splendour. I had no doubt they where very real and very human. Blood red candles melted over every surface, dripping blood like spots on the floor. My old muggle priest would have died at the sight. I almost expected her to hand me an apple and cackle evilly as I fell into a deep sleep surrounded by Flitwick and 6 of his little buddies while they beat my unconscious form for being a Little Person Bigot.  
  
But the teacher herself was not the stereotypical old hag. Her slinky and short dress was a twinkling black that revealed both full breast and milky thighs. She was the teacher all the other boys dreamt about. I never had. . . but that may be because her equally evil and 'scary in black' male counterpart was constantly taking up all the space in my wet and warm thoughts. A hat on her head seemed to be made from black wires and feathers. She almost looked like a raven. Her hair was waist long and straight as black silk, her skin a deathly pail. Her bare feet showed black toe nails to match the manicured ones on her hands. She was creepy, there was no doubt, but had my tastes gone that way I may have found myself suddenly unable to walk straight.  
  
"Come sit with me, little Gryffindor." Her voice called in a melodic rhythm as she perched herself onto a high stool next to a large table, one long finger indicating the stool opposite. I mad my way over, past piles of guano, and sat across form her. Those deep eyes burning into mine. I couldn't look away.  
  
"You must excuse me, Harry. I haven't taken my potion today. I was unaware I would have guests." Her voice was like a lullaby singing a song I didn't know. What potion? What on earth did she mean? "I'm sorry, Professor. Potion?" At my question her grin widened. She leaned forward on the table far enough for my eyes to have the perfect view of the insides of her dress. The material just tight and loose enough that in the gap between the soft mounts I could see a stretch of straight and flat stomach. If I didn't know any better, I would have said she was trying to seduce me.  
  
Her grin grew large when she noticed my gaze and she reached out for my hand with one slow and languid movement. Her skin was as cold as ice and as strong as marble. The white of her skin shining in the faint candle light. I wondered what that skin would look like in the light of day. . . and then realised all my classes with this woman had started at midnight. Infect, as astronomy teacher all this woman's classes started at midnight. She had to sleep all day, she had the night shift after all.  
  
Her eyes burned into mine as she twisted my hand around to reveal the slight cut from Flitwicks tiny knife. A slight trail of blood embedded in the creases of my skin. She brought my hand closer to full red lips and she whispered out in a seductive voice, "Your hurt, Harry. Do you want me to kiss it better?" hot breath caressing my hand as she spoke.  
  
I was starting to rethink this whole 'gay thing'. Her hands and breasts so finely placed before me, I could see the slight rise in her chest with each long and shallow breath. A slight sheen on her lips making them appear to be raspberry sweets covered in a sugary gloss. The pupils of her eyes where growing, making the contrast of her dark eyes to the moonshine skin more pronounced.  
  
Enticing. Stirrings began below, for the first time in my short life caused my a woman. She brought my hand closer, the cut in the soft skin between the thumb and index finger, and a red velvety tongue crept out to swipe over my cut. I gasped out in surprise watched intently as she brought those full lips closer to cover the wound. Sucking ever so slightly in a sensual kiss with her eyes closed and a soft moan reverberating up her throat. It almost sounded like a purr.  
  
What Ron and the other boys would give to be me then! My heart beat was rising, sweat starting to build on my forehead as my aching groin protested the suddenly tight confines of my pants. A slight scrape of teeth and her eyelids raised. Blood red eyes locked onto mine as she bit in with a slight growl and I screamed out in panic!  
  
She was a fucking vampire! No one had ever told me she was a fucking vampire! Everyone thought it was Snape that was the fucking vampire! Holy Fucking Hell! She was eating me!  
  
I tried to pull my hand back, the spell of her beauty now broken as a searing pain worked it's way down my arm. The painful pulling of blood faster then my heart wanted to pump it, even in my anxious state, rending my arm near numb within moments. I did the only thing I could. . .  
  
"AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!!!!"  
  
With that the silence of the rooms was broken and a hundred bats went flying in every direction. Distracting Sinistra, she let ago and I snatched my arm back running for the door. She cut me off before I could get there though, blood trickling down her chin as she growled out in frustration and bats flew around in panic causing her hair to pull in every direction. I fled backwards instead and found myself in a bedroom. . . with a coffin in the centre and a Potion vile on the table (untouched) clearly labelled in Snapes handwriting, "Drink Every Day".  
  
How I wished in that moment that everyone would just listen to Snape! The man knew what he was doing! Even if no one else did! HE knew what he was doing!  
  
A bang on the door brought me from my trance and I ran to the window. A quick Alohamora, and I was out on the ledge running for the next window and my safety.  
  
Safety in the fast dwindling population of Hogwarts. 


End file.
